Dinner at Mac's
by MacsLady
Summary: After Christine has a bad day at work, Mac invites her over to his place for dinner...


**Dinner at Mac's.**

**Notes: All characters belong to the writers of the show.**

**As in my previous Mac/Christine fic, I have renamed Christine's brother 'Steven' for the same reason given on that fic. **

It was 8am, and already Christine just _knew_ it was going to be a bad day. She'd arrived at work to check on everything and get yet more paperwork done before the place officially opened at 12pm. She'd switched on the coffee machine to make herself a cappucino, whereupon the machine had made a godawful noise that sounded like the death throes of a demented lawn mower, and then died.

She'd fiddled around with it a bit - well, okay, she'd switched it off and on again, smacked it several times in various places, and called it every bad name under the sun, and threatened to throw it in the Hudson.

When none of that had worked, she'd called the company that made the machine and were supposed to attend to it's maintenace.

'I'm sorry, Ms Whitney, but we can't send anyone out until after the weekend,' a nasal woman said at the end of the line.

'What am I supposed to serve my customers until then?' she'd demanded, to which the nasal woman had had no reply. Christine pushed a little, explaining how much she needed the machine fixing as soon as possible, but soon saw it would do no good. She muttered something about going elsewhere for a new coffee machine, and hung up.

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. There was no way she could get a new coffee machine bought and fitted today, she'd just to have to wait for someone from the company to come out and fix the old one.

By 2pm that afternoon, she was even more certain it was going to be a bad day. As well as dealing with several customers throwing temper tantrums because they couldn't get their coffee, she'd just had to deal with a couple who had picked her restaurant, of all places, to have a blazing row (apparantly the man had been sleeping with the woman's sister) which involved the throwing of salt and pepper shakers, cutlery, food, and one chair. Christine and one of the waiters had just managed to get the couple out the door, when a group of laughing students rushed past them.

'Christine, those damn kids didn't pay!' yelled one of the waitresses.

Christine stared after the large group now charging up the sidewalk, and groaned. She should have known something was up when they'd ordered so much food, they were college students for God's sake, but she'd thought maybe one had gotten some money from their parents and was treating the others. Damn it. she thought, stalking back to the kitchen, would today get any worse?

The rest of the afternoon wasn't too bad, though a little quiet. Christine was making a shrimp diavolo for someone when she caught her hand on the hot burner of the stove. Tears stung her eyes and she swore quietly as she ran her hand under the tap. It didn't look too bad, and she didn't have time to go see a doctor or go to a clinic. All she wanted was for the day to end.

Later, as she was clearing some tables, a man leaned over from his table and leered at her, then, to her disbelief, slid his hand up her thigh. She whirled, grabbed his hand, and pushed two fingers back almost to the point of breaking.

'Ow, you bitch, get off! I'll have you arrested for assault,'

'If you don't leave right now, sir, I'll break your fingers, then I'll call my boyfriend. He's the head of the New York Crime Lab, and he's a Marine. He was in Recon. Special Ops. I don't think he'll be very happy about what you just did to me, do you?'

She spoke with such deadly calm that the man instantly dropped his tough guy act and left, almost running.

Despite the horribleness of the day, Christine couldn't help smiling a little. Having Mac in her life was not only very pleasant and quite exciting, but useful too. She knew that had she called him about the creep, he would have come straight away, and that the creep would have deeply regretted his actions. She was also aware that she'd called Mac her 'boyfriend' without thinking twice about it. Was that what he was? From the couple of times they'd kissed, and the way he made her feel, she guessed it was, and the notion made her smile again.

By 8pm, the restaurant was empty, and they'd only had a couple of orders for takeaway food. Christine had sent the rest of the staff home, and was closing up. She was too pissed off and tired from her long, trying day to stay open any longer. She couldn't even make herself a coffee. She and Mac had been supposed to be going to see a movie and then out for dinner, but it was now only half an hour till the movie started, and as much as she wanted to see him, she was just too tired to go out and she didn't want to add the stresses of her day to whatever he'd had to deal with or whine on about it all at him.

Sighing, she dialed his number on her cell.

'Christine, hey,' he answered, and the warmth in his voice brought an immediate smile to her face.

'Hey, Mac. I've had a really bad day and I just don't feel up to going out tonight, I'm sorry,'

'What happened?' Mac asked, his voice so soft with genuine concern that she badly wanted to tell him all of it right then and there.

'Just...just stuff. Nothing important,' she said instead.

'You sound upset, and tired, that suggests it is important,' he said in that same soft voice that made her melt.

'I...no, Mac, really, you don't want to hear me whinge on about my crappy day,'

'You don't whinge, but I would like to listen, if you want to talk. Why don't we forget about the movie and dinner out and you can come to my place. I'll make you dinner.'

'Your place?' Christine asked, surprised and intrigued and a little unsure at the notion. Part of her longer to accept, but there was something very personal and definite about going to his place. But then, this was Mac. He'd been the one to make the first move that night a few weeks ago at her parents' anniversary party, but the way he'd then waited for her to take it further, and his wonderfully warm, simple, understanding, 'okay' when she'd become all flustered and suggested they leave, meant that she knew his invitation wasn't some lame attempt to get her into bed. The idea of spending time with him, and having someone else cook for her was overwhelmingly tempting.

'Well...'

'I'll make cheeseburgers. Do you remember those? I make excellent cheeseburgers.'

She'd actually forgotten, but when he mentioned them now she remembered with surprising vividness.

Back when they'd first know each other, and Steven and Claire were alive, they'd often had barbecue parties in the summer, just the four of them. Christine had largely managed the cooking, but Mac's cheeseburgers had been a specialty and a fixture. Now, she felt her mouth water at the memory, and she smiled as she said,

'You do know how to woo a lady, Mac. I'd love to. What time should I come?'

'About 9, if that's not too late?'

'No, it's fine.'

Mac gave her his address.

Christine hung up. Just talking to Mac had alleviated some of her exhaustion and frustration, replaced by excitement and pleasure as the idea of seeing him again.

Mac tugged the black t-shirt over his head and ran his fingers through his hair, which was still damp from the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was aware that he wasn't getting any younger, and given that it had been a long time since he'd had a woman he was dating over to his place, and given that the woman coming over just happened to be Christine, who he had found himself thinking about with surprising frequency and who he knew he was falling for, made him nervous. He looked around his apartment. Given the spontaneity of his inviting Christine over, he'd just had time to clear the files he'd been working on off his coffee table and light a candle he'd found in the cupboard. His neatness, inbred by his time in the Marines, meant that he hadn't really had to worry about tidying the place up, but still, he was worried. Would Christine like it? It felt odd to be having female company in his home again - since Claire died, only Peyton had been here. But what he was definitely beginning to feel for Christine was very different to what he'd experienced with Peyton.

'Pull yourself together, Mac, it's just dinner,' he muttered to himself as he headed to the kitchen.

Christine stood outside Mac's door. She'd gone for comfortable but close fitting jeans and a dark red blouse, with a little make up and perfume. Was it too much? Too little? Would he like it? Christine shook her head.

'Pull yourself together, it's just dinner,' she said to herself as she knocked on the door.

Mac opened the door and smiled.

'Hey,' he said, simply.

Christine smiled back, and instantly felt some of the exhaustion and irritation from the day leave her.

'Hey,' she said.

She couldn't help noticing the way the black short-sleeved t-shirt fitted him just right, defining his strong arms and chest, or the way his faded jeans settled on his hips. She'd not seen him in casual clothes since they'd met up again, she'd forgotten just how very good he looked in them. He seemed to look even better now than she remembered he had all those years ago.

Mac reached out and took her hand, pulling her gently to him, eliminating the space between them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Christine was startled, but her surprise was quickly overwhelmed by other, more pressing, sensations and feelings. The reassuring solidity and warmth of his body, the scent of him, the strength of his arms round her. She nestled her head under his chin and hugged him back. She inhaled his scent - clean and warm with a hint of something that wasn't any kind of cologne, but just *him*. She felt a rush of desire flare through her, that set her nerves tingling. They'd kissed a few times since her parents' party, the kisses always initially cautious and brief but with a distinct undertone of passion, and they'd hugged of course, but they'd never held each other like this. Christine had never been held like this. There was wordless, simple *understanding* in the way he held her, in the way one hand rubbed slow, careful circles over the tight muscles of her back. The feel of the fingers of his other hand gently caressing the nape of her neck, just the softest touch of his fingers against her skin there, sent thrills of delight and desire through her entire body. She felt all of these mixed sensations at once, and it threw her completely off guard, and she found though she wasn't entirely sure what to *do* with all of that, she liked it. She didn't want it to end.

After a while, she felt the soft brush of Mac's warm breath against her ear,

'I think we better go inside.' he said, softly.

Christine nodded, and tipped her head back to meet his eyes. They were green and warm and full of warmth and affection and something else, some spark she couldn't quite define, but which matched the one he'd had in his eye right before he kissed her at the anniversary party.

He lowered his head (he was, she thought, absolutely the *exact* right height for her when it came to this kind of thing) and they kissed, softly and briefly, then stepped into his apartment.

Mac prepared the burgers in his kitchen. He could hear Christine moving around, checking out his home. He'd always been hesitant about letting anyone loose in his apartment. For several years after Claire died, this had been because his apartment had been anything but his home, only a barren, empty, Claire-less space that reminded him constantly, mockingly, of her absence, a place he avoided as much as he could. After he'd moved to his new place, things had been better. The memories he had here of Claire were ones he'd chosen to keep, photos of her and some of her possessions he'd been unable to throw away, good memories of their time together. Not that he still wasn't reminded that she was gone on a constant basis, but his new home had to some extent, along with his work, become a shelter from those constant reminders, though still a lonely one and one that for some time he'd been longing to share with someone. He'd been a little nervous about Christine seeing his home for the first time, partly because he was still rather thrown by the depth of his growing feelings towards her, but to his pleasant surprise, it felt good opening up his life to her this way, right and natural.

The burgers were ready, and Mac removed them from the pan and put the meat in buns, adding cheese which melted instantly.

'Damn, those smell good. Exactly like I remember,' Christine said, coming up next to him, 'Is there anything I can do?'

'There's beer in the fridge, or orange juice, and I put some coffee on as well, I wasn't sure what you'd like,' he said, shyly, feeling like a teenage boy bringing his date home for the first time.

'Oh, Mac, you made coffee?'

He nodded as he handed her a plate.

Christine leaned up and kissed his cheek.

'You have *no* idea how much I need a coffee,' she said.

He smiled.

'Well, you're always making me coffee, I thought I should return the favour. Yours is better than mine though.'

They each poured a cup of coffee and Mac let her lead the way out of the kitchen. They settled on his couch. and watched a rerun of NCIS, which he was inordinately pleased to discover she enjoyed too.

After they'd eaten the burgers, Mac got them more coffee. They settled back on his couch, and Mac's eyes met hers. They were warm and soft and serious.

'So tell me about your day,' he said, the tone of his voice matching the look in his eyes. It was such a simple request, but said with such absolute genuine warmth and interest and concern, with such a lack of any pressure or expectation, that Christine felt any hesitancy about talking about it disappear completely. She told him all of it, not trying to hide her frustration.

He listened, that look of genuine interest and warmth never leaving his eyes, except for brief flashes of displeasure bordering on anger when she mentioned the creep who had touched her.

'So that's it,' she said finally.

Mac nodded, and carefully put his coffee mug down. He reached over and took her injured hand in his. He held it lightly and carefully, but she was very aware of the strength in his fingers, as well of the heat of his skin against hers. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a light soft kiss on the bandage she'd placed over her burn, his eyes never once leaving hers.

'I'm sorry you had a bad day,' he said, his voice still soft, yet filled with intensity and emotion, 'I wish there was something I could do to make it better.'

Again, his words were simple yet filled with such genuine caring and understanding that she felt all her tension and frustration simply melt away, and her heart stop at the pure emotion she saw in his eyes and heard in his words. She smiled a little, too. Only Mac would say he wished he could 'make it better' when he already had done just that.

'You have made it better,' she said, 'Thanks, Mac, for listening, and for the food and the coffee, and just for...being you. I needed that.'

As she spoke, she realized just how much she did need that, need *him*, and the realization thrilled and unnerved her.

Mac smiled.

'It's what I'm here for, Christine.' he said.

They sat in silence for a few moments, then Mac said,

'If you like, I can probably track down that creep who touched you and kick his ass, or those kids who ran out without paying, and scare the life out of them. I bet my lab can get some DNA off something either of them used. '

Christine laughed, something she would never have thought possible earlier today. She had no doubt however that if she seriously asked him to track down either the creep or the kids, he would.

'I'll keep that in mind,' she said, smiling.

'At least let me put a fresh bandage on that burn for you, I noticed it's been bothering you. I think I have some gel somewhere you can put on minor burns.'

'Okay,' she said, smiling again, somehow not at all surprised that Mac had noticed the burn had been bothering her.

He stood and offered her his hand. She took it and he led her into his bathroom. He carefully removed the old bandage and re-rinsed her hand under cold water before carefully patting it dry. He applied some sort of gel from a bottle in his medicine cabinet, and she felt it sooth the itching and soreness. He then gently applied a fresh bandage. As he worked, she watched him, unable to look away. His forehead creased in a light frown of concentration, which she found incredibly cute. She was very aware of the deftness and gentleness of his fingers, and wondered what it would be like to feel his touch elsewhere on her body, and the thought sent a thrill of desire through her. Mac looked up.

'You all right?'

She was both very all right, and not all right, she thought, but she just nodded.

He finished with her hand, and again softly kissed her hand.

He looked up, and she was surprised to see the sudden change in his eyes from soft concern to something altogether different, attraction and need and fear all mixed up in what was the most intense and emotional and open expression she'd ever seen in anyone.

Mac had been very aware of Christine's closeness to him throughout the evening. Of the small gap between them as they sat on his couch, of the feel of her hand in his. Of the way she'd felt in his arms as he'd held her at the door. But now, that awareness seemed to intensify. There was barely any space between them in his small bathroom, and she was so close he could feel the heat from her body, smell her perfume. He couldn't take his eyes away from her face. He *wanted* her, not just physically, but emotionally as well. This, what he was feeling right now, was so completely different to anything he'd felt with Peyton, or Aubrey. This wasn't just physical attraction or wanting to prove anything to himself. This was something he hadn't felt since Claire. It threw him completely for a loop, and thrilled him. And it terrified him. Because he was all too aware how quickly and easily the world might rip Christine, and everything she made him feel, away from him. She offered him a hope, a potential, for companionship and understanding, and...love that he'd never expected to find again with anyone, since Claire died. But if he did what he wanted to do, more than anything right now, it was a risk. A risk of opening himself up, to the potential for love, yes, but also to all the risks that loving someone entailed.

_I don't want to lose you,_ he thought.

'You won't,' she said gently, and he realized he had spoken those words aloud.

'I can't predict the future, Mac, but I'm not planning on going anywhere. I happen to really, really _like_ you, Mac. *You*. For exactly who you are right now, with everything that makes you who you are. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.'

Her eyes never left his as she spoke, and her words were filled with a depth of understanding and sincerity that took his breath away and made his heart stop in his chest. Without thinking about it any further, without allowing the risks of it all to consume him, he took the slightest step forward so that the space between them was non-existent, and slid his hand behind her head, running his fingers over the soft skin at the nape of her neck. He leaned down slightly and kissed her, for the first time not holding anything back. He allowed his emotions - his uncertainty, his fear, his attraction to her on all it's levels, his need for her and for everything she represented, to fill the kiss, and to tell her everything he had been unable to put into words. His heart pounded and his head felt light, and everything around them seemed to fade into unimportance, and all he was aware of was her kissing him back with every bit as much emotion and want and need.

After some time, they slowly ended the kiss. Mac rested his forehead against hers and kept his arms round her, reluctant to end the contact and heat between them.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him.

'Damn, Mac, if you'd kissed me like *that* at my parents' party we really would have given my family something to talk about.'

He chuckled.

'Well, maybe next time we go to one of their parties,' he said.

'Mmmm, well, that will be a while yet,' she said, and her lips curved into a distinctly wicked half smile as she threaded her fingers into his hair, 'I'm planning keep you all to myself for now.'

'Sounds good,' he said, and leaned in to kiss her again.

The End.


End file.
